


It's rude to stare

by Gregoria (CybertronianCupid)



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Belly Kink, Food Kink, Holoforms (Transformers), How Do I Tag, In any case feed this skinny metal birb, Self-Insert, Stuffing, Weight Gain, reader's gender isn't specified, stuffing kink, valveplug, wg kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:49:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29655033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CybertronianCupid/pseuds/Gregoria
Summary: It's rude to stare at someone eating. Then again, he doesn't mind it as much when they're the one feeding him.
Relationships: Starscream (Transformers)/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	It's rude to stare

“You’re staring again” Starscream huffs, pressing a fist to his mouth to muffle a belch. 

The human sitting across from him smiles coyly, peeling another mandarin to add to the considerable fruit pile on a plate between them. 

“You’re so pretty, aren’t I allowed to look?”

His stomach grumbles, and he almost forgets this fleshy body doesn’t have the strength of his fuel tank, and that applying force would do more harm than good. He muffles another protest of his internals, blindly reaching for a slice of fruit, grabbing a nectarine, the sticky juice staining his slender fingers. He peels the red skin off it with his teeth and chews it slowly, making a point of not scarfing the fruit down like he did with the strawberry cake they presented him with. 

And the cherry pie that followed.

The banana split with creamy vanilla ice cream. 

His mouth waters at the memory of the thick pineapple smoothie they held to his lips to wash all that deliciousness down, and he shoves the nectarine in his mouth, moaning in delight. 

He sucks at the refreshing fruit, savoring it before he swallows and groans, sucking his fingers clean.

He hears them approach, and feels their fingers unbuttoning the middle of his shirt, freeing his bulging stomach. They rub at it, and knead into the soft flesh that isn’t stretched to its limit… Yet. They seem to remember some manners, and try to remove their hands from him. He grabs them by their wrist, eyes narrowing. 

“I don’t recall telling you to stop,” he reaches for a peeled kiwi next, biting half of it , grimacing at the unexpected sourness. Not unpleasant, or repulsive… Simply unexpected. He munches, feeling the small seeds slink down his throat with each swallow, his taste buds tingling. 

Their fingers knead at his flesh, soft and barely there, before they press against him more firmly, drawing out a strained groan and gasp. 

“Are you enjoying this?” he swallows down his nausea, fingers grasping a big dark red strawberry covered in crystal sugar. He places it on his tongue, teeth sinking in just enough so he can scrape off the crystals, and then proceed to stuff it in his mouth, spit dribbling from the corners. 

He moans, tilting his head back while chewing, the mush sliding easily down his throat into his already more than full stomach. He smacks his lips, tongue gliding over them, when his eyes look at his human again.

“You’re still staring." 

They dare to laugh softly at his accurate observation, reaching for the cluster of grapes. They pluck one and place it in his already waiting mouth, and then another and another, until his cheeks are bulging, lips puckered when they press the last grape in. His eyes squeeze shut, as he slowly chews. 

There, now they can stare at him for as long as they want. Their hands return to his middle and they can’t help but hum with delight. 

When they first met him, the man was almost nothing but skin and bone. A twiggy scarecrow, constantly snapping at anyone and everyone while he chugged bitter coffee between his lunch breaks, muttering sarcastic remarks about how "this was a waste of time” and that some “big chested cyclops will pay for this deliberate embarrassment”. 

They like him better like this, slumped in the comfort of their home after a long day at the office. His figure is more filled and healthy with each passing week, as they spoil him rotten, his skin no longer the sickly shade of ashen gray stretched around his sharp cheekbones. 

His breathing is strained when he swallows the last of the fruit in his mouth, half lidded eyes looking at them expectantly. There is something like a flicker on the edges of his body. They cup his cheek in one hand, the other patting his stomach encouragingly when he hiccups. 

“You’re just the cutest birdie aren’t you,” they croon, pressing a kiss between his brows. There’s that twinkle in his eyes again, and their hands feel like they’re pressing against warm metal for a moment. They could’ve sworn his bright blue eyes started turning red, but with another blink, they are right back to that lovely blue that drew them to him. 

‘Must be my imagination,’ they think, reaching for an apple slice next, rubbing it against his thin lips, and he parts them, whining until their hand returns to rubbing his stomach, pressing kisses to his temple. He’s barely cleared one third of the plate, and with how long that one apple slice is taking him, he’ll need a nap before they bring out the cream puffs and sponge cake with blueberries and the banana bread drizzled with honey,before returning to the fruit plate again.


End file.
